we know that you will do quite as well in college. By the way, I hope you ’ll take a course in the eighteenth-century essayists; you will find them very stimulating—Addison especially.
“I—er, your mother feels that I ought to say something about the dissipations of college. I— I’m sure that I don’t know what to say. I suppose that there are young men in college who dissipate— I remember that I knew one or two—but certainly most of them are gentlemen. Crude men—vulga¬ rians do not commonly go to college. Vulgarity has no place in college. You may, I presume, meet some men not altogether admirable, but it will not be necessary for you to know them. Now, as to the fraternity . . .” Hugh forgot to pinch his leg and looked up with avid interest in his face. The Nu Deltas! Mr. Carver leaned forward to stir the fire with a brass poker before he continued. Then he set¬ tled back in his chair and smoked comfortably. He was completely at ease now. The worst was over.
“I have written to the Nu Deltas about you and told them that I hoped that they would find you acceptable, as I am sure they will. As a legacy, you will be among the first considered.” For an hour more he talked about the fraternity, Hugh, his embarrassment swallowed by his interest, eagerly asking questions. His father’s admiration for the
